


possibly, maybe (i'm falling for you)

by dawnmay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hipsters, Writer Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnmay/pseuds/dawnmay
Summary: One day, Build-A-Hipster walks in. She notices his eyes are green. Like, really green.a little thing i wrote for spn spring fling at livejournal.





	possibly, maybe (i'm falling for you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rant_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rant_girl/gifts).



She should get his order wrong just so he could come back over. She would have to smile sweetly at him, say her apologies, the whole “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll get this fixed for you right away.” But then, he’ll probably just think she’s an idiot who can’t get a simple coffee order right. 

She should go over to his table under the guise of sweeping and somehow manage to spill the coffee all over his lap. No. Then, the store would have a lawsuit on their hands and Danneel would be out of a job. 

“Just talk to him,” her co-worker says from out of nowhere. As if it’s the easiest thing in the world to talk to another human being.

Danneel isn’t shy. She’s…socially inept. Conversation isn’t one of her strongest suits. Talking to hot men that walk into the store proves to be even more complicated. 

==

She comes from Louisiana, edge of the boot, Baton Rouge in her hometown’s backyard, crawfish sprawled out on newspaper during the summer. And she’s never going back. 

With her stats, she could’ve gotten into any college she wanted; she could’ve done anything as the former Miss Teen Louisiana. And so, she became a barista in Austin, Texas, watching the hipsters come and go with their man buns and their Macbooks. 

But this guy is different. Makes her feel different. 

The guys back home were all camo hats and Carhartt jackets. They married their high school sweethearts and still wore their letterman jackets in the winter; they collected cans of dip and drove their dad’s old pickup. 

This guy looks like another one of those build-a-hipsters she frequents on a daily basis: glasses swallowing his face, beard, clacking away at a Final Draft document on his MacBook Air. 

_What do you write about?_ she wants to ask. 

She doesn’t. 

==

One day, Build-A-Hipster walks in. She notices his eyes are green. Like, really green. 

==

His name is supposedly Jensen. It sounds made up, like he watches too many movies and he wants to be the leading man. She writes “Jensen” on his cup anyway, like always. And like always, he answers to it. 

You can tell when they’re lying about their name. They’ll pause and look around before realizing that they took on a different persona for the day. 

Jensen never does this. Not for a second. 

Danneel watches him closely. So closely that she notices something different in his routine today. He Facetimes with a woman, talking about how well the script is going. Everything is going well in Austin. He’ll send her some pictures.

This is why that talking-to-humans thing is so hard. It ends in disappointment. 

==

She had dreams, of course. 

Her peers’ idea of the American dream was a double-wide and a baby attached to each hip. Maybe being a medical assistant for the local clinic until they went back to school for dental hygiene. 

Danneel went west in search of more. What “more” meant exactly, she couldn’t tell you. She just went west, stopped in Austin to eat at Whataburger and sort of fell in love with the place with its big city amenities and small-town vibe. 

No one knew her there. She loved that the most. 

==

She’s writing her two-week notice when Jensen walks in. She’s overstayed her welcome in Austin. There’s too many creative types, and the only thing she knows about creativity is the graffiti that would litter her old neighborhood in Louisiana. 

Maybe she’ll go east this time. 

“Hey. Danneel. Right?” Jensen.

She points at her name tag like, “duh,” but she’s secretly relieved he’s just as awkward as her. 

He blushes— _blushes_!—and makes his usual order. Afterwards, he says, “Hey, would you like to have coffee with me? Gets kind of lonely writing all alone over there.” He chuckles. 

Danneel doesn’t know what to say, being a recluse the entire time she’s been in Austin. But her mouth says, “Sure.” 

And what just happened? 

==

Jensen is writing this pilot episode about two brothers who kill werewolves. She’s on her lunch break, sharing a blueberry scone with him, watching how his eyes light up over this project. 

Her own eyes haven’t lit up like that since she was crowned Miss Louisiana Teen. 

She crumples up the two-week notice in her pocket. 

==

The script is pretty good, she must say. She lies in his bed in this cramped studio downtown. Jensen puts it away long enough to kiss her again. 

“I want to know more about you,” he says, fingers carding through her hair. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything.” 

==

At the coffee shop, she quits on the spot after some lady starts complaining right in the middle of morning rush. “I was supposed to have skim milk! God, what is wrong with you? Can’t you do anything right?”

No, she can’t do anything right. Except, apparently, smile real pretty for the judges at pageants. She started walking in heels at four, her face caked in makeup as Ma threatened to whoop her if she tripped. Danneel had to get them out of Louisiana, their golden ticket.

She takes off her apron, runs out into the rain and crashes into Jensen along the way.

=

Jensen drives them to her apartment. She had walked there, but he didn’t want her waiting out in the rain. 

Danneel notices his thick Texas accent; he notes her Cajun accent, the one she tries to hide. But it’s rearing its head now that she’s pissed.

Her apartment building isn’t nearly as lavish, her rooomates’ dirty dishes in the sink, their textbooks sprawled on the floor after a late-night study session. 

“Stay,” she tells Jensen.

“Okay,” he says. 

Stay can mean a lot of things. Just like her loose definition of “more.” When Jensen kisses her, long and deep, she finally knows what “more” means. 

=

Nothing lasts. 

But this does.


End file.
